An old roomie of mine used to talk about having the aquamarines. Not as dark as the blues, but a little out of kilter. I used to be a great lover of this Solstice/Christmas celebration. Gift making and giving, crazy pagan customs dressed up as Catholic ritual. People who dress in careful neutrals all year dragging dead trees into their living rooms and going wild with lights and colors. Lately, though, it seems to be more something to be survived. At this time of year I miss my parents, I miss my brother, I miss absent friends. I think the more losses you have in your life, the tougher the holidays can be. And as we age, losses are inevitable.
Or is it because there are no tiny ones making Christmas presents with me? I still make gifts with my godkids, but now that they are in high school and college it is a different sort of fun. My father loved Christmas, although after my mother died it wasn’t quite the same for him. But he still looked forward to embarrassing us with tacky light displays and an overabundance of ‘décor’. One year he called me from a business trip somewhere and said he just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit. His solution was to go a shopping mall. That would kill any remaining bit of Christmas spirit if you ask me. I’ve successfully avoided that so far this year. Right now I am looking at piles of socks that I have worked on over the past year, putting them away for Christmas.
This is one reason I don’t like to make toe-up socks. I often have no idea of the identity of the recipient of the sock, so I make sock blanks.
When Christmas rolls around, I can add a suitable few rows to adjust the length and away we go. Several friends and family each year when asked about what they want, always respond “Socks.” So they get them. It is a very pleasant feeling to have one’s work appreciated, is it not?
Mitts? A headband? It’s a sport weight blend of 90% cormo and 10% angora. The yarn is so springy and lovely and soft. And it is so cold and dark out. Not that I mind the dark and the cold. I look forward to the long, cold evenings of January and February where no one expects much of you, each weekend isn’t crowded with too many activities, there are no outside chores to be done, and you can hang out and knit and read and watch movies and enjoy your down time.
I’ll get over it. I always do. But right now I’m feeling a little Charlie Brownish. I always loved A Charlie Brown Christmas as a kid, but didn’t really understand the part where he revealed his feelings about Christmas, “I think there’s something wrong with me. I just don’t understand Christmas. I like getting presents, sending cards, decorating tress and all that. But I always end up feeling sad.”
Maybe I just need to get out my copy of the Grinch. And A Christmas Story. And the 1951 Christmas Carol. Good thing we still have a VCR…